


Gentled of the Need to be Possessed

by privatepenne



Category: Naruto
Genre: I do not know how to write kakashi. i simply don't, vaguely Shippuden compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25195159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privatepenne/pseuds/privatepenne
Summary: Iruka weaves through his older students' lives while they grow up, mostly watching them from the outside now. Now, though, he may have a chance to build new bonds of his own.A Yamairu meet-cute.
Relationships: Umino Iruka/Yamato | Tenzou
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

“He’s really grown, though, hasn’t he?” Sakura said, smiling. It didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Iruka didn’t know if it was her concern for Naruto, his constant training, his habit of rushing headlong into danger, or the fact that everybody she met had to remind her of how far her genin team-mates were progressing while her own advancements were tacked on as an afterthought. It was a shame, Iruka thought; medical ninjutsu was just as challenging as switching chakra affinities, but much less flashy. Shinobi didn’t get congratulated for making marginal improvements in postsurgical quality of life.

Being taken for granted for doing scutwork really well – that, he was used to. 

“What are you planning to do with all of that?” Iruka asked his former student, changing the subject.

Sakura looked down at her basket. It was filled with jars, apothecary boxes, twisted, grotesque looking roots, and antlers. “Oh, these? I’m going to make some special Sakura food pills for Naruto and the team this afternoon! I bet the boys are going to be starving.” She said brightly.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, last night after training I saw Naruto out-eat Choji and got the idea to make him some lunch. Shizune-san made some recommendations for what I should include, and then I’m going to put my own special spin on them.” She winked. 

Pavlovian memories of Sakura’s previous attempts at baked goods roiled in Iruka’s mind and stomach. The folks at T&I should really get in contact with her – her sortie into baking for the genin Tanabata festival could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Pity Naruto and the poor bastards keeping him company during his training. Not even Kakashi-san deserved that.

“I’m sure they’ll, ah, appreciate the gesture!” Iruka said, grinning and rubbing the back of his neck. “It's really very kind of you, Sakura.”

“We’ll see how they turn out. Hey, want me to drop some off at the Academy for you when I’m done?”

“N-oh no, I wouldn’t-“ 

She was smiling, but her gaze suddenly turned menacing. 

Oh well. He could leave them in the teacher’s lounge and watch his coworkers accuse each other of poisoning them. “-want to impose, of course. But if you’re in the area, I’m sure we’d love to try them.”

Sakura’s smile flickered back into something more benign. “Sure thing, sensei! I’m probably going to drop them off in the 7th East training grounds this afternoon and then visit the Academy on the way back. Now I’ll see you later, I’ve got cooking to do!” she swung her basket and turned back to the village, her stride resolute and confident.

Iruka waved weakly at her as she left. She was turning out to be a fine shinobi in her own right, but gods, he wondered if Tsunade-sama wasn’t setting a bad example for her.

He spent his morning at the Academy. School was out for the summer and he’d be loathe to go back there otherwise, but there were binders full of student information, and, more importantly, semi-classified parent information that he needed to reference. The most recent years’ graduates needed to be sorted into preliminary genin teams, and that would require dedicated attention to each of their skills – and their potential clan jutsu. That sort of information was kept safe in a lockbox under each teacher’s desk, in case they needed to proffer the information to a medi-nin or ANBU in case of disaster. At least he wasn't alone; most of the Academy staff were there in the mornings, too.

Poor, suffering Iruka-sensei, listening to the distant sound of children playing outside the school compound while he wallowed away at his dusty, dark desk in a spooky abandoned classroom. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for himself.

Outside, a pair of shinobi seemed to be making their way back from the Jounin Station, talking amiably and unintelligibly. A warm breeze wafted through the open window. As he stared down rows and rows of names and numbers, Iruka let his mind drift, just a little, imagining that he was out there, doing anything else. It was a lovely day for a C-rank mission, maybe to Rain country, or Kiri’s hot springs region. He usually spent his summer running missions, but the bread-and-butter appointments were being snatched up by the newly graduated chunin teams. Iruka didn’t have the heart to argue with them. Any dreams he’d had of making the missions leaderboard were long dead. He’d made his bed, helping raise such fine proactive shinobi, and now he’d lie on it.

Still, it would have been nice to have a few extra ryo over break.

And something to keep him occupied that wasn’t paperwork. He was almost at the end of his pile and it was barely June.

He was halfway through last year’s roster when his stomach growled.

“What do you want?” He hissed down at it. It retorted with another gurgle. “I ate so much last night at Kotetsu’s party. You cannot possibly be hungry already.” Unfortunately, his stomach had no such qualms, and continued to complain.

Fine. It was around 11, anyways. He put away the Kekkei Genkai Binder of Horrors and headed out to the grocer’s around the corner that he usually picked up premade lunch from. His cooking skills extended to… reheated miso soup… and frying up takeout with leftover rice. That was it. He ruined a stovetop boiling water once, and he’d resigned himself to spending a healthy cut of his paycheck on premade food ever since.

Did he get a little sad when he saw a student open up a perfectly-made bento, filled with beautiful and nutritious homemade food from their loving parents? Absolutely not, not at all. Iruka liked premade natto and rice and endless ramen when Naruto was in town.

Today I’ll treat myself, he thought as he made his way out into the beautiful sunlight. I’ll eat at the park, then finish off my work and do a little training in the evening once it’s cooler. Fresh tuna! That’d make the paperwork worth it.

It was early in the day and the grocer’s outdoor lunch display had a full array of options in cute, seasonal plastic containers. Iruka spent a luxurious amount of time comparing the meat content to the price of each one, reveling in the anticipation of a nice meal. Iruka was tempted by some nice-looking tempura, pillowed in bright yellow tamagoyaki, but he was still set on maki.

Hm, speaking of meals, he wondered if Sakura’d gone and delivered her Super Special Sakura Haruno Food Pills to Naruto. He smiled, imagining Naruto’s reaction, vacillating wildly between disgust and an attempt at comportment to avoid Sakura’s wrath. The kid couldn’t act to save his life; every emotion that he had was multiplied by ten and shouted from the rooftops. He picked up another box with inari and cream cheese rolls – these were Naruto’s favorite, with plenty of carbs and protein for a growing boy.

And maybe for Kakashi-san… Iruka didn’t know the first thing about what the Copy-nin ate, but nobody didn’t like gyoza, right? And there was a 2-for-1 deal too. He didn’t know how many of Team 7 would be helping Naruto, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially when the alternative was… well, the less said about that, the better. 

Not that Iruka felt like he needed an excuse to see Naruto again, but the boy’d been so busy the past few weeks. As soon as he’d gotten back from his two years of sannin training, during which Iruka could expect a brief, anonymous letter once a month, he’d been swept into two intense missions back-to-back. In the hospital Iruka had cuffed his ear for pushing himself too hard after his return from the Tenchi Bridge, but not a week later Team 7 had returned from the Fire Temple trailing a band of rogue-nin who had tried to level Konoha. The village that had treated him like dirt was suddenly clamoring for him to protect it, and he was getting run ragged.

So he hadn’t gotten to see his student all that often. He was growing up, taking on so much responsibility for such a young man, and – and Iruka cared about him and wanted to make sure that he knew it. He loved the wild, loud, good-hearted kid, and if all that he could do was buy him ramen and lunch when he was in town, then he happily would.

He heard the 7th East training ground before he saw it, which was not normal. This training ground was technically outside the village, but open for advanced water-style training during the daylight hours. It featured a small – small! – waterfall and some nice wooded land for tactical practice. Now, though, Iruka heard the thundering sound of thousands of gallons of water from the East gates as he left the village.

“What in the flaming crucible..?” he asked himself, squinting through the trees.

It was one of the more bizarre things he’d seen in his short term as an active duty shinobi. The pretty little water feature had been transformed into an enormous stretch of falls, about twenty meters wide and lustily flowing. There was some kind of wood suspension going across it, and Naruto – several dozen Narutos – were hard at work slapping at the water with their palms like an elementary kata. Chakra form transformation, Iruka thought, surprised, then impressed. He’d known Naruto was powerful, the line of well-established shadow clones was proof of that, but chakra transformation required self-awareness and finesse beyond just strength and a positive attitude. He really was something else, he thought, smiling.

A shock of white caught his attention, and as he came closer to the clearing at the center of the training ground he saw Kakashi spread out on a bench at the base of the falls. He was reading one of those infernal books, the kind that should never be taken out in public, much less openly read around children, and looking supremely lazy.

“At least one of you is working hard, Kakashi-san” Iruka said, standing over him. Kakashi’s exposed eye slid up to meet his. “What is this move called?”

“Playing dead,” he responded. “Very useful in battle. Who are you again?”

Iruka ruthlessly suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “I am the thoughtful teacher bringing you and your team some lunch, as a reward for working so hard. Perhaps you have yet to work up an appetite, though.”

“Maa, I think that Naruto and Captain Yamato here are doing enough work for a ten-man team, don’t you think? I wouldn’t want to show off.”

Iruka looked up at the other person in the clearing, seated in a circle of elaborate wooden spires. Those hadn’t been here the last time he’d used the 7th East training ground, either. The shinobi, dressed in standard jounin gear, had his palm shoved towards Naruto. His pose was incredibly tense, as though he were resisting an enormous force despite sitting comfortably cross-legged on the grass. It would be a little comical if Iruka didn’t know what the stakes were.

“What... is he doing?”

“Mm, that’s confidential information,” Kakashi said, his eyes fixed on the plastic grocery bags that Iruka was holding. “But perhaps he’ll tell you over lunch?”

He let the copy-nin rifle through the bags and selected the gyoza, just as Iruka had intended. The two of them had reached an uneasy and disinterested truce over the past few years, tied together by Naruto’s absence. They’d had lunch at Ichiraku’s once and Kakashi had body-flickered away when the bill was presented (and that was why they had only had lunch once.) They nodded to each other in the streets. People gave Kakashi a wide berth in Konoha, but they stuck to Iruka like burrs while he did his weekly errands; he liked to think that he was sparing Kakashi from aggravating passer-byes. 

“DID SOMEONE SAY LUNCH?” One of the Narutos hollered from the bridge, whipping around. “LUNCH?” The rest of them all responded in a rising and falling crescendo.

“How is his hearing that damn good?” Kakashi mumbled. “Alright, sure, let’s take a short break. Yamato?”

The stranger in the circle released whatever jutsu he must have been holding, and collapsed over his own lap panting. Iruka felt a shudder of vicarious exhaustion, just as the sound of a battalion of shadow clones dispersing heralded a bright orange Naruto-shaped missile impact hitting him.

“Iruka-sensei! What are you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be at school keeping the kids in line?” Naruto beamed up at him. He was sopping wet (as was Iruka, now), stripped down to his orange pants. His excitement was infectious.

“Even teachers need a break, Naruto,” Kakashi drawled. He’d managed to sit up, at least, popping open his bento. “I wonder how far you drove Iruka-sensei out of the village during lunch hour. He would have made a fearsome missing-nin.”

“Don’t listen to him. School’s out for the summer, remember? I heard that you were hard at work and I thought I’d come say hello,” he said, ruffling Naruto’s hair. He was almost up to Iruka’s shoulder but he took it manfully, grinning like a little kid again.

“Aw, you brought food, too? Seriously, you should watch me train every day if you're gonna feed us! Kakashi’s going to help me make up my own super-cool jutsu that’s gonna blow you out of the water, just you wait!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Iruka said, fondly. He was so sappy today, first running into team Konohamaru, then Sakura, and now, watching Naruto doing impossible training with one of Konoha’s finest. It was the sort of day that reminded him why he’d given up his tokujo dreams to teach algebra and spelling.

“Hey Kakashi-sensei, is Yamato okay?” Naruto asked, pointing his thumb at the offending captain.

Kakashi leaned over and called out to him. “Maa, Iruka-sensei has gone to all the trouble of buying you lunch, you might as well come over and eat it with him, kouhai. He’s just your type, too. Tall, dark and neurotic.”

“Who are you calling neurotic?” Iruka snapped. “This, coming from the most insolent slacker to turn in an illegible mission report. If you were my student you’dve learned a modicum of respect by now, sir. You could stand to be a little more neurotic, because I still might try to teach you a lesson if you don't stop kidding around.”

Kakashi regarded him, cool and a little amused, as if to ask are you done yet, crazy-nin? But Iruka had long inured himself to the embarrassment of lecturing his superiors; he’d apologized to Kakashi for his outburst in front of the Hokage during the chunin exams and gotten a dismissive Maa, you might as well unload your temper on me, I can take it.

“Which one is mine?” Naruto asked.

“The tuna is mine,” Iruka said, switching from lecture to teacher mode instantaneously. “And I encourage you to steal food from Kakashi-sensei. It will keep his reflexes sharp while he rests.”

Just as he sat down on the bench next to Naruto and Kakashi, he heard voices emerging from the bushes on the far side of the clearing, back from the direction of the gates. A soft young man’s voice, and… Sakura! Iruka looked down at the food in his hands, the uneaten tuna in neat little rolls, so nicely made and indubitably preferable to food pills of any kind. Poor, decent Sakura, doing what little she could, and Iruka-sensei, beating her to the punch with grocery takeout. He suddenly felt terrible. He’d seen what Tsunade-sama did to people that ticked her off – mini-Tsunade was going to punch him into next week, once she was done making him feel terrible.

He grabbed Naruto’s shoulder. “Please tell Sakura that Kakashi got lunch. You’ll thank me for it later, I swear.”

“Wha-?” Naruto asked, his mouth full.

“And finish swallowing before you eat another bite, please.” Iruka slammed the top of his bento box and sped around the bench. Well, so much for a relaxing lunch outdoors.

And since he obviously did not look where he was going he ran straight into Captain Yamato, who had collected himself enough to join the three of them. The bento box nearly took a kamikaze dive until Yamato intercepted it halfway to the ground. Excellent reflexes. Iruka took it from him, staring. No, Iruka had never met Captain Yamato before, because he would remember if he did. That much well-built, dark-eyed shinobi? He would have had to be blind not to have seen him before. And now he’d felt him, too, accidentally gotten a good feel of his chest bumping into him.

“Oh, I – damn – sorry about that,” Iruka said, feeling his cheeks and the back of his neck prickle in a blush. “Enjoy your – uh, have a good lunch, Captain.”

Yamato opened his mouth to say something, cocking his head owlishly. Behind him Iruka saw Kakashi was looking over the bench, smirking as much as he could with only one eye shown. Iruka frantically made a one-handed hand sign and body flickered back to the village gates just as Sakura and the pale young addition to Team 7 appeared.

Iruka slumped back into Konoha with his uneaten lunch, rubbing the back of his neck. Very very smooth, Iruka-sensei. Well, he’d never seen Captain Yamato before, and so it was likely that he’d never see him again, especially if he stayed away from Kakashi, which he always endeavored to do. 

Although... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to pay Naruto a visit and cheer him on later. Just for Naruto’s sake, because Iruka was a caring teacher. No other reason at all, especially no intriguing, mysterious happuri-wearing shinobi with, Iruka was willing to bet from the waterfall, impressive water manipulation skills. Just Naruto.

He made his way back to the academy building, eating with his fingers and considering what food he should bring next time.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day saw Iruka back in the classroom until late afternoon. He was mostly done with the genin team suggestions, spare a few unlucky students that he wasn’t sure would pass the final exam, but Daikoku had stopped by and they’d had a protracted conversation about refurbishing the training course later in the summer. Running through those obstacle courses were some of Iruka’s fondest academy memories; he’d delighted in finding out how the mechanics of them worked so he could try and sabotage them later. Repairing the older parts was supposed to be their big summer project.

With potential Akatsuki sightings flying around Fire county, though, the bored, listless chunin that they usually depended on for labor had been called into service, or were running missions in the absence of the upper-level jounin. All the Academy teachers were puzzling out how to put it back into usable condition by the fall. Ah, paperwork. Iruka didn’t know when he’d become some kind of authority at the Academy, but his colleagues had started to feel the need to run things by him, as if he had some kind of influence.

After Daikoku had left, Iruka closed up his room again and headed back home. There was a continuing education coursebook on taijutsu trigonometry provided by the trans-village education council that he’d been putting off completing, and he might as well get it over with.

Apparently, kids couldn’t be compelled to learn geometry unless the shinobi arts were involved. Iruka couldn’t blame them, apparently, since he was putting it off, too.

His apartment was just a few blocks from the Academy, in the less-nice quadrant of the central residential district. Here, the streets were canyons flanked by rows of multi-unit housing, overseen by laundry-and plant-filled balconies that had been added by earlier tenants as an afterthought. It was a lively neighborhood, full of families that had moved out of the single jounin barracks when they had children and pets and lives outside of the mission room.

Iruka was in the second-to-the-top floor of his building, which was nice for the view and killer on the legs. The elevator had been out of order for as long as he’d lived there.

Today he forewent the eight-story death march, did his best Rock Lee impression and made a very undignified, chakra-enhanced scrabble up to his kitchen window. The building manager, smoking against the front door out on the street, gave him a sarcastic ovation.

Iruka unlocked his window, turned around and bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Inside the A/C was rattling softly and the mid-noon sun was slanting through the blinds on the opposite window by the balcony. Iruka left the window open after himself, shrugging off his vest and leaving it on one of the chairs at the secondhand wood table in his kitchen-slash-living-space. It was a small bachelor studio, filled with books and boxes and mementos and things he had to send off or get rid of and hadn’t gotten around to yet, but it was home.

The offending workbook was near the bottom of the stack of textbooks on his kotatsu, which had been unused since spring stole the pleasure of warm feet. He pulled it out from the tower of books and flipped to the next section he'd bookmarked while he put a kettle of water on his stove to heat.

“Incorporating the Wind vector: Katana-throwing Calculations for Kids,” he read aloud as he paced aimlessly from table to stove. He was feeling all lax and indolent in the summer shade, smelling the crisp dusty breeze from outside. “If your students have made it this far, then they have a firm understanding of the fundamentals of trigonometry. Translating this knowledge into the field, however, can pose a challenge to even the most sedulous shinobi students.” Maybe as a substitution for the training course, they could...

He stopped at the end of the introductory paragraph. Something was prickling at the back of his neck, running down his spine and around his ribs, like sweat or hives. He hadn’t noticed it before, when he'd gotten home, but now there was the slight and almost imperceptible sensation of being watched tugging at the short hairs at the base of his neck.

Iruka spun on the ball of his foot and whipped the book at the window with lethal aim and energy. It sailed harmlessly over Captain Yamato’s shoulder, out the window and disappeared below.

“Sorry,” Yamato said, all huge-eyed intensity from his spot squatting on Iruka’s windowsill. He didn’t look very sorry.

“Did you dodge, or is my aim just that bad?” Iruka asked, frowning. Then, “What’s wrong? Is it Naruto?”

“Naruto’s alright,” Yamato said. “I just.. thought you might like these back.” He held out a stack of the plastic bento boxes from that week’s impromptu lunch, washed and neatly nested into one another.

Iruka stared. “I think those are supposed to be disposable, Yamato-san.”

“Are they? They seem, uh, very sturdy.” Yamato stared down at the boxes in his hands. “I thought perhaps an Academy teacher could find something to do with them.” They had little frogs and butterflies on them. Iruka stared at him. Yamato stared at the empty bento boxes. 

“Well. I’m sure that we’ll find something to do with them.” Iruka looked back at his studio, which was already filled with neatly organized, supremely useless junk. Yeah, he’d feel bad throwing them out. Maybe he could use them for storing his exploding tags and the missions desk staff would ruthlessly make fun of him when they saw.

“You’re Iruka-sensei, right? I apologize for not introducing myself. I’m Yamato, Team 7’s interim captain.”

“Ah, no, I’m sorry for not staying the other day. I had to make a quick getaway.”

“Sakura, right?”

“Yes, well, you know her.”

Captain Yamato nodded in agreement. “Her food pills were… hearty. Not particularly edible. You must let me pay you back for lunch, though.”

“Not at all, Captain, it was my treat,” Iruka said, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the table, a little awkwardly. “A friend of Naruto’s is a friend of mine. He’s gotten me to pay for enough meals already, so I’m used to it.”

He smiled a little. “Yes, so he says. He speaks highly of you, you know. I feel like I already know a fair bit about you, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka shrugged. “Well, he does love to talk. I’m just glad that he’s found a team that appreciates him. It looks like you and the rest of Team 7 are really going at it out there on the training field, huh?”

He almost didn’t want to pry. Yamato had Elite Jounin written all over him, and anything with Kakashi involved was bound to be some kind of upper-level classified above-Iruka’s-clearance-level business. All the same Iruka itched to know what was going on, what jutsu the man had been aiming at Naruto the day before that had laid him out like it had. Yamato was about as closed a book as had ever been written, though.

Yamato cocked his head. “Yes, Kakashi-sempai has a rigorous training regimen set up for Naruto.”

“And you’re there to keep them company? Very kind of you. What exactly are you doing?”

“I can’t divulge the exact details of my current mission.” He pursed his lips. “But rest assured I’m doing everything that I can to support his progress.”

It had to be the Kyuubi, Iruka thought. He’d had his private suspicions about the stability of Naruto’s jinchuuriki seal for a while, especially after Jiraiya’s re-appearance in the village several years ago. He’d read extensively on prior hosts of the tailed beasts, both out of academic interest and the hope that he could help a younger Naruto, and he’d learned that there were all manner of ways that a suppressed beast could re-emerge from its vessel at inopportune times. If Kakashi was worried about Naruto’s chakra training triggering something, anything, then it made sense that he’d call in backup. Whoever Yamato was, whatever he could do, must be truly sobering if Kakashi trusted him to stop a tailed beast.

“Would you, uh, like to come in for some tea?” Iruka finally asked after a silence that could have contained the rise and fall of ancient empires for its length. Yamato was still crouching on the windowsill, looking like he expected to be shooed out at any second but stubbornly angling to be invited in for some truly inscrutable reason. 

“Thank you, sensei, if it’s no trouble.”

“Water’s already hot. Come sit down, I’ll get you some.” He watched the shinobi gingerly step into his kitchenette. Maybe he was tired from dealing with both Kakashi and Naruto at once and wanted a chance to sit down. Why he’d settled on a stranger’s tiny apartment Iruka had no idea, but company was in short supply these days, and it behooved him to get to know Naruto’s other precious people if he’d be seeing more of him in the future. Besides, between Yamato and Kakashi, he already preferred the former. He felt like he was setting up his own adult play-date. 

“I’ve never been in this set of apartments before,” Yamato said, sitting down at Iruka’s table, hands clasped politely. “I always liked seeing the plants that people put on their balconies, though. Yours look quite… verdant.”

“I know, right? I never remember to water them. That basil has no right to grow that well.” He measured out a spoon of his best green tea leaves in two strainers. “My neighbors come by at all hours asking for clippings for cooking. I’ve got half a mind to give it to someone else, but I just like the idea of having plants around. My mom kept a garden, and it’s sort of nice to take care of something that doesn’t yell or throw kunai.”

He gingerly picked up the hot teacups by the rim and turned to set one down in front of Captain Yamato. He almost apologized for his well-worn tableware, but then he remembered that this stranger (with Ay-En-Bee-You written all over him) had invited himself in, and he would have to take whatever Iruka gave him.

Yamato looked down at the cup of tea steeping in his hands. He looked almost boyish, so solemn and wide-eyed. “Iruka-san-“

“Iruka, please.”

“I came here in the hope of getting some advice from you, actually.”

“Ah, so you aren’t here to give me disposable bentos. You foiled your own plot. How could I have fallen for such a ruse.”

Yamato had the decency to blush, but plowed on. “You’re a teacher, of course, and you seem like you’re capable at handling teenagers.”

“I was one, not too long ago.” Iruka sat down across from him, leaning over the table and blowing on his tea. “What’s going on?”

“Did Naruto tell you about the new member of Team 7?”

“He mentioned him. Only to compare him to Sasuke and find him wanting, of course.”

Yamato blinked heavily and sighed. Iruka cracked a smile. “Of course he did. Sai is… he has a unique background. It can make him difficult for Naruto and Sakura to work with. He’s opinionated and he doesn’t have much of a frame of reference for normal interaction, and so he can be blunt to the point of insult. I don’t know what I can do to facilitate – to get them to trust each other and work together. I thought that I could help them overcome it myself, but after the mission to the Fire Temple - I think I need some experienced help.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with it. You’re team captain, not a therapist.” Iruka took a sip of tea. “Sai might be abrasive, but Naruto and Sakura also need to learn not to let their emotions interfere with their mission.”

“Do you think that that will actually happen?”

Iruka had to laugh. “That’s… that’s fair.” He looked out the window at the sunny building across from them. 

“I guess I was a lot like them when I was younger. I had a lot going on and not very many outlets for it, so I had a short fuse. The two things that helped me the most were getting older and having a mentor and friends that weren’t afraid to hold me accountable.” He thought of the Third, bringing him in for Go and laughing with him about Asuma’s antics; Kotetsu and Izumo and Mizuki – Mizuki, even though his chest ached to think about him – skinny-dipping in the creek after dark; and all the times where they told him that he needed to calm down, think things through from a different perspective, and re-assess his priorities. Usually not in those words (Kotetsu told him to “get his fucking shit together and don’t come back until you do”) but always coming from a place of unconditional love.

Therapy probably would have helped him along faster, but no shinobi would willingly subject themselves to a T&I medical assessment and risk an ‘unfit to serve’ mark on their record.

“With enough well-meaning lectures from you and Kakashi, I think that they’ll settle down. Sai, you might need some more help with.” Iruka said, getting up and moving to his bookshelf. Behind wood trinkets and novelty picture frames he found his sadly well-used book on Antisocial Child Development. He handed it to Yamato (not intending to hit him this time).

“I’d have to meet Sai myself to get an idea of what he may need, but the Academy deals with a lot of kids that have gone through trauma. It’s sort of our unofficial job to make sure that they can still function by the time they graduate.” He sat back down as Yamato flipped through the worn hardcover. “I wish that we got instruction on how to actually help them, but – you know how it is. Mental health, fitness for duty.”

Yamato nodded. “You seem to have done alright for yourself.”

Iruka cocked his head with a curious frown.

Yamato nodded at him. “I mean to say – you’re a beloved teacher. Like Kakashi-senpai, in a way, but with the entire village. No matter how difficult you were when you were younger, the hard work that you do touches everybody. You’re… well-loved. Rightfully so. I think I could see your passion and your Will of Fire in all of your students now that I’ve met you.”

Iruka felt a blush prickle through his whole body, and he rubbed his scar to hide it. “You can’t say those things to a stranger, Yamato-san! It’s not appropriate!” But please, continue, he thought.

Yamato smiled and leaned back, holding his now mostly-empty cup of tea, and scratched the back of his head bashfully. “Ah, sorry if that was too effusive. It’s been an exhausting week, I don’t know what came over me.”

“Really offended by this handsome, considerate stranger deciding to invite himself in and compliment me. In a really weighty way that targets the exact things I’m self-conscious about.” 

Yamato looked down at his cup of cooling tea for a few thoughtful moments while Iruka kept blushing at both of their forwardness. If he were reading the mood wrong – which could be very likely, with Yamato being so altogether strange in affect – he likely wouldn’t have to see him again. If things turned out well, well… He could see that gentle little smile, so surprised at itself, again. He wanted to find out what kind of lunch Yamato liked best, what his laugh sounded like, if his wiry hair stuck up in the morning. He wanted to give him something of the validation and love the need for which roiled under his surface, hard to see unless you dealt with classes of neglected children. 

“You’re not a difficult person to complement.”

“I’m also not a difficult person to insult.”

“Hm, I doubt that.”

“You don’t know me very well, Yamato-san.”

“Not yet.” He leaned back, meeting Iruka’s gaze, seeming to collect himself. “Not half as well as I’d like to. If you won’t let me pay for lunch, please, let me at least take you out for dinner.”

That was expert-level S-class jounin level smooth. Or perhaps he’d been reading Kakashi’s erotic fantasy novels? Either way, there was no way Iruka could refuse, even if he’d wanted to. Yamato’s black eyes were like genjutsu, pinning him down and pulling him in at once. He’d been doomed from the start.

Iruka gave his most beatific, irate-parent-charming, low-level-administrator-seducing smile. “As long as you didn’t learn table manners from Kakashi-san, I would like to, very much. However-“ he looked over through the window, and the orangeing light slanting through – “I’m going to need you go get my textbook first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yamato desperately trying to come up with ANY excuse to drop in and say hi. Slav squatting on the windowsill. Please let me give you this trash.
> 
> Come say hi to me @fauvester on tumblr, I've done some Yamairu art too

**Author's Note:**

> Iruka is trying his best. He deserves a respectful man who can build him a house.
> 
> (Probably going to be 3 chapters. No plot, just fluff. This is my design)


End file.
